Eyesore

January 12, 2021. 11:12 PM. She sat on her bed facing her window, staring intently through the frosted glass. Her hands were clammy from holding the crappy night vision camera tightly. She had a flashlight and a baseball bat beside her as well, available if the situation called for it. The only light seeping into her room was from the street lamps that flickered every twenty-seven seconds. Sometimes eighteen if it was a particularly cold night. 

“Sixteen, seventeen…” she paused. The light outside flickered. A cold day then. Glancing at her watch, it read 11:14. She had just a minute left. She was going to prove that she was not going insane, or on acid, or seeing visions from an angry god. Maybe the last one, but she wasn’t too hooked on the idea of being a maniacal prophet. Sure she never slept well, but how could she? She had hundreds of things on her plate which she couldn’t afford to let slip. The light flickered again. She bit her lip as her feet started to cramp while her eyes ached from staring at the window for so long. 

On the other side was another window. It was identical to her’s: each edge lined up, each section was a carbon copy, and even the half-assed paint job she did last summer matched. She never noticed this coincidence until a month ago. Heck, she never noticed the window until a month ago. There was only about a metre or so of space between the houses, apparently a mistake during the building of the street. If she wanted to, she could open her window and jump to the neighboring one… if she wanted to. 

Through the other window, it was pitch black. It was so dark that she could see her own reflection staring back at her. She could see her eye bags, her unruly hair, and her lips bitten so aggressively that they had turned into a ruddy shade of red. Trendy but painful. Despite the cold weather, her sweatpants and shirt clung to her from the amount of sweat she was emitting. She felt disgusting. She promised herself once this whole debacle was resolved, she’d fix up her act. She had to. She glanced back at her watch. 11: 15. Showtime. 

Her grip renewed on the camera as her other hand drifted down to the bat beside her. She watched, intently, at the other window. The mass of darkness within it seemed to swirl in her vision, cascading up and down as if it was a whirlpool. She blinked a couple of times. All she saw was her reflection and a still window across from hers. 

She looked so haggard. She grimaced. She needed to get more sleep. She probably needed to eat more too. And exercise. At least her grades were good… most of the time. Maybe she’d feel better if she got a boyfriend. She bit her lip. Her mind was wandering when she needed to stay focused. She had to catch this on tape or else this would continue to haunt her for another month, plus prom was coming up. That was enough stress already in itself. She hadn’t even gotten another dress after Carol had bought the one she wanted before her. She couldn’t go to prom in the same dress as someone else. Carol didn’t even look good in green; it made her look like a goddamn vegetable. Carol sucked. 

The light flickered outside again. She rubbed her eyes and glared past her reflection to focus on the window opposite of hers instead. The blackness hadn’t moved even though during most nights, it would have happened already. Her luck was undeniably terrible. Maybe she should just go to sleep, recuperate, and try again tomorrow. Maybe it had disappeared. Though she wanted to catch it on tape and prove it was happening, it would also be a relief to never think about it again. 

Just as she was about to turn off the camera, the lights flickered and a sudden movement caught her eye. Something had moved behind the blackness. She waited again. Sixteen, seventeen… flicker. Something was standing in the other window. She could barely make it out so, she doubted that her crappy twenty-dollar camera captured anything. Gingerly, she got to her feet and slowly walked towards her window to get a better view. As she did, she counted softly under her breath. 

“Sixteen, seventeen…” Flicker. The figure had stepped closer to its respective window as well. She fought the urge to close her curtains and continued to stare at the figure across from her. She had never seen it fully. She had only caught glimpses which were enough to start her sleepless nights. She continued to stare at the figure, counting in her head and walking a bit closer to her window. 

“Sixteen, seventeen…” Flicker. She was right at her window, so was the figure. She caught a glimpse of it… It was… just her. Staring back at herself. In the window. Then it was gone. She stared blankly in disbelief. Rubbing her eyes fiercely, she prepared herself for the next flicker. Then she waited. 

Sixteen, seventeen… Flicker. At that moment, she stared back at herself through the window. It was her... except, not exactly. The figure’s hair was curled nicely, her eyebags non-existent, she wore a soft smile, and she was adorned in that green dress. It wasn’t a sight she was expecting to witness. 

All the other nights, she had caught glimpses of a mass of flesh she couldn't comprehend, with its wiry arms trying to get in. Only when the street lamps were on could she bear to look outside. Some nights, she was so terrified, she slept on the couch downstairs, yet she swore she could still hear a soft thumping coming from outside. She thought it was those monsters in horror movies with illogical limbs and a desire to eat her.

But… this wasn’t what she prepared for. She dropped her bat, leaning in closer to get a better look at… well, herself. Then the light came back leaving her staring back at her reflection in the window. She quickly looked away at her own appearance as it seemed so disgusting in comparison. 

Instead, she looked down at the camera. Quickly, she checked the recording, wanting to see that figure again. The quality was terrible, but it was good enough to make out the window on the other side of the glass. She waited until the light flickered in the video and paused it as fast as she could. She was left with an image of her… reflection. Tired and ugly, staring aimlessly through the window. She frowned. Had she imagined it? Was she so tired that she hallucinated the figure on the other side? Had she really been insane this whole time? The light flickered outside again, and she shot her head up to see if she could catch the figure again. She only saw a glimpse of green before the lamp came back on. 

There was no way she was imagining it. Maybe if she opened her window, the camera would have a better chance of capturing what she was seeing. The light flickered once more as she unlatched her window. In her peripherals, she saw a flicker of green again. The lights were back on when she opened her window. Looking across, she saw that the other window was also open. She stared in disbelief and confusion. She racked her brain for a logical solution to the odd coincidence of both of their windows opening. Maybe it was the wind. Maybe somebody was just playing a cruel joke on her. She was never one to make friends with the neighbors. 

The light flickered again and again, and each time she caught the figure staring back at her. But each time the light came back on, the figure was gone. She checked the footage again… all she saw was the opened window. She sighed and chucked the camera against the ground, it thumping against the carpet. She angrily paced her room, nervously glancing outside her open window. Before she knew it, the light flickered again… and the figure was matching her position: slightly away from the window, left leg in front, hands-on-hips. She stared at the figure who looked back at her before the lights came back on. 

She walked back to the window, leaning slightly out of it, and waited. She gripped the window sill fiercely, eyes aching from staring for so long. When the light came on, the figure’s face appeared in front of hers. Surprised, she jumped back and watched as the figure stayed in the position before the light came back on and it disappeared. She took a deep breath and stared at the empty window. 

Mustering up her courage, she walked back up to it, this time hovering her hand in between the two windows. She waited. The light flickered, and her palm was touching the figure’s. Its hand was so smooth compared to hers, its skin without an imperfection in sight. She stared at it wishing that the light wouldn’t come back on so she could look at it for a little bit longer. She stared and waited, but the light didn’t come back on. She glanced to the side of the street to see all the lights were off. 

Suddenly the figure’s hand intertwined their fingers. She gasped and tried to jerk back, but the hold on her was too strong. She looked back at the figure. It was still wearing the same face as before. It was her face… but so much more stunning. It was what she wished she could see every morning in the mirror. 

“Do you want to look like this?” the figure whispered in her voice to her. She stared, stunned for a moment before letting out a half-hearted laugh. 

“Yeah,” she muttered, wondering if she really has gone insane, but the hand against hers felt so real. Said hand tugged her gently towards the other window. She stared quizzically at the figure, unsure what to do. 

“C’mon,” it whispered. She looked at the figure again, showing her exactly what she wanted to see every time she looked in the mirror. Even if she tried and tried, she could never achieve that appearance. She thought of all the things she had tried to be good enough; weird diet pills, endless studying, constantly checking her appearance… it seemed so pointless.. she was so tired. The sleepless nights and the dull days were catching up to her. Her body felt like dead weight weighing her down. She felt like giving up. What was the point of trying so hard when the goal is so unattainable? 

Lost in her own thoughts, she let herself be tugged by the figure through her window. She thought she would fall but, it felt as if there was no gravity as she drifted towards the other window, tethered by the soft hand grasping hers. Before she knew it, she was back on her feet, feeling the familiar carpet underneath her feet. The figure let go of her hand and smiled. She couldn’t help but return it, suddenly feeling lighter and rejuvenated. Looking around, she noticed how this room was identical to hers from the bed pushed against the wall to the camera that was thrown against the ground. She felt a soft touch to her shoulder and let herself be guided to the mirror that hung on her wall. She looked through it and saw everything she ever wanted. Her skin was like porcelain, her eye bags gone, her hair bouncing ever so slightly in those perfect curls, her lips no longer bit ridden, and she was wearing the green dress. She looked down at herself and couldn’t contain the smile that erupted from her face. 

“Do you like it?” The figure asked. She nodded, feeling tears well up in her eyes. 

“Thank you,” she said, looking back at her reflection. 

“Your welcome,” her reflection whispered back.  

****

“I know this is a difficult time for you Miss Adams, but we can’t rule out any possibilities here,” the officer said, tipping his hat further down to block out the sun’s strong rays.  

“And I keep saying that my daughter was perfectly healthy,” she hissed back, “are you trying to say that I don’t know my daughter, officer?”

“No Miss Adams, I’m sorry if I offended you. This is just standard procedure,” the officer said, his passive face not shifting even slightly. She huffed and walked away towards her husband. The officer sighed and turned on his heel to walk towards the body. She was lying flat on her stomach, her arm outstretched above her as if reaching for something. Her skin was sickly pale and her clothes hung too loosely around her. 

“Why are the houses so close together?” He asked. 

“Apparently a mistake they made during construction,” his colleague replied. The officer nodded slowly in understanding, looking away from the girl and upwards to the window. 

“What was she reaching for?” He muttered to himself as he glanced to the left and stared at the blank wall.